Hero's Mask
by happywanderer2
Summary: Most people had no clue about the real reasons for it and Kankuro did not care to educate them.
1. Chapter 1

Most people had no clue about the reasons for it, and Kankuro did not care to educate them. Rated for violence, language, and references to sex. Eisuke, Miri, Wind Dancer, Keiko, and the old puppeteer are mine, but are inspired by the Naruto-verse. The rest of the characters are not mine, and belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

Hero's Mask

One

Kankuro stretched out on his bed, kicking out the sheets to get them all pulled out and loose, the way he liked them. He took all the pillows and made a comfortable pile. He relaxed back, putting his hands behind his head. It felt great after a long busy day to just kick back.

The shower turned off. Kankuro considered going back into the bathroom, but then decided to wait. He wiggled so the sheets slipped down to his hips. He flexed his biceps and grinned in anticipation of the reaction the sight would get. However, instead of an answering grin or appreciative whistle, he was presented with a purple streaked towel and a disgruntled expression.

Kankuro snorted. "You're the one who told me to hurry, Miri."

"Another few seconds would not have killed the mood." She shook the towel. "How many times do I have to tell you, use soap and water first, then the towel. Your make up does not come out in the wash."

"Stop calling it make up!"

"Stop getting whatever it is all over."

Miri fingered the towel, rubbing the face paint between her fingers, and then tossed the towel in the laundry hamper. She flopped onto her stomach on the bed and settled down beside him. A long arm shot out and snatched a pillow away from Kankuro. Miri tucked it under her chin.

Kankuro smirked at her, it was fun to tease Miri and it was not often that he got a chance to do it.

Miri rubbed her fingers together again, looking thoughtful. "You are right though," she said.

"Oh?" Kankuro raised an eyebrow. "And you're admitting it? That's a first."

"Ass." She poked him in the ribs and then wiped her fingers off on his chest. "But you are correct; it is not really make up. It is much too foul for that."

"Hey!"

"Well it is. It's more like paste than anything else. It is thick and sticky so it doesn't run when you sweat, it's got sun block, stuff to help reduce glare, and some anti-toxin for your own poisons, so if you walk into a cloud from one of those nasty bombs of yours, then you won't take yourself out. Even the hood makes sense; it keeps the sun off your neck and face." Miri began to trace circles on his arm. "All in all, the whole look is pretty cute."

"Cute?! I am not cute, damn it!"

"I did not say you were cute, the look is. Still, I do not quite see why."

"Why what?"

"Why only you? Ebizo-sensei does not wear it, his sister didn't, and neither did Sasori. The books I looked in said it is an old tradition that had fallen into disuse." She paused. "You know, there is not much on puppet arts in the village library."

"No shit. I hadn't noticed."

Miri ignored his sarcastic tone. "Ebizo-sensei has some books, but they are in his private collection."

"I'm aware of that."

"He did not take you on as a student until after you had learned how to use Karasu, Kuroari, and Shanshouo, right?"

Kankuro nodded. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. Miri recognized the expression; it was the look he got when he was thinking about his childhood. It was usually best to just leave bad enough alone whenever he got that look, but her curiosity had been peaked by Ebizo's reaction to her questions.

"If he did not teach you, who did? Sasori was long gone by that time. Was it Ebizo's sister?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Kankuro sighed. "You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"Probably not. Was it Baki?"

"He's strictly a wind user. It was my father at first."

"He was not a puppet user."

"No, but he knew enough to teach me the basics. He did have kage status after all."

"Was he trying to resurrect the tradition then?"

"Something like that."

"Like that? He either did or he did not. C'mon tell me, Kankuro."

She pointed at the pictures on his dressing table. The room was dimly lit, but they both knew what was in the pictures.

"In that picture of your team before their first mission you are not wearing anything unusual." She grinned. "You were a cute kid, such chubby cheeks. And then, about two years later, you go off to some exams and you are wearing it. I prefer the pattern you are wearing now."

"I'm glad you approve, Miri. Since you seem to know so much from gossiping with others you don't need me to tell you a damn thing."

"Oh, pfft, do not pout Kankuro. I do not know the whole story, just the outline. I need you to fill in the details."

"You don't need anything. It's in the past and deserves to stay there."

He shot Miri a look that signaled the end of the conversation. Most people would have dropped it right then, but Miri just stared back at him, unruffled and undaunted by his fierce glare. She was a skilled tracker who hunted down her prey, animal or human, with relentless determination and patience. The only thing Miri enjoyed more than a good hunt or a good fight was a good story. And tonight she was hunting a story; one of his stories.

"Chikamatsu Monzaemon." She tossed the name out and went back to tracing a complicated design on the solid muscle of his upper arm with her finger.

"You _have_ been reading. Stop that, damn it!" He swatted at her hand.

"An interesting fellow, according to the few accounts I could find. Not quite an actor, writer, or even shinobi. I tried reading a couple of his plays. The man was not fond of happy endings. Have you seen any of them performed?"

"One or two."

"That is all? The father of the puppet arts, your art, and you have only seen one or two of his plays."

"I've got better things to do than watch other people pretend to do stuff."

"I guess, but Kankuro, bunraku hood _and_ kabuki paint? I can see someone trying to honor him by adopting one, but both?"

"You just explained the reasons a few moments ago. There's nothing else to tell, Miri."

"That's crap. What happened Kankuro? There is a story here, I can smell it."

"No there isn't. It's just what you said it is and nothing more. People make too damn much of it. It's not about covering up fear or becoming something else. There's no deeper meaning here, none of that metaphysical bullshit you and Ebizo-sensei like so much. I'm just the same with or without it."

His gaze flitted to the pictures again. Miri looked at them, then let her eyes wander over his body and considered his reaction to her questions. Moonlight painted silver designs over his cheek, chest, and stomach. She considered just letting it go, as he had requested, and turning her attention to other things, like tracing those patterns onto his chest with her fingers.

"Now I smell bullshit. Everyone wears some sort of mask Kankuro. Yours just happens to be the colour of nobility and pride. Or maybe the colour of anger and obstinacy, sometimes it is hard to tell with you. You know, the best way to deal with a ghost or demon is to drag it into the light, face it, and then let it go."

"I don't believe in ghosts and besides this room is dark."

She poked him. "Do not be smart. I was speaking metaphorically and you know it."

"I metaphor sex and she…" The rest was lost in a grunt when Miri poked him in the ribs again, quite hard this time.

"Ouch! Hey! That's no way to ask me for something, Miri." Kankuro tucked his hands behind his head again. "Besides it's not much of a story."

"Then it will not take long to tell and we will have more time for other activities."

She grinned at him, her large teeth gleaming in the semi-dark. Kankuro grinned back.

"Well if you put it that way…"

His grin faded and he resumed staring at the ceiling. He did not say anything for a long time and Miri did not prod him any further. She knew she would get her story, so now she was prepared to wait while he organized his thoughts.

"All I wanted was to see someone else like me, another puppeteer. That's all I wanted. And then…then I think I did it because he didn't want me to. It was something I did on my own. For the first time, I made my own choice and went my own way about something."


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Kankuro kicked free of the sand and then rolled away, tumbling over the side of his bed to the floor. The sand followed, trying to regain a hold on his legs. Kankuro pressed one hand to the floor, he had already tangled one of Gaara's arms with chakra strings, but that was not going to be enough. He would send more strings underneath the bed to catch hold of his brother's leg, pull Gaara off his feet, run to the workshop, get Karasu, and then he would show his brother and that stupid demon a thing or two.

It had been awhile since Gaara had done this, sneaking into his bedroom and attacking him. Since they had started doing missions he had been less violent at home. They had been on a long break however, and the demon must have gotten restless. So, they had gone back to the old game of tormenting Kankuro.

A chakra string licked at Gaara's ankle. He shifted away, but the string followed, trying to get a grip. Sand lifted Gaara off the floor, away from the flickering strands of chakra. Kankuro scrambled to his feet and shifted his attack; trying to snare Gaara's other arm. Gaara stepped away from the attack and swatted the string away. Kankuro was getting stronger, it took more effort to get him pinned these days, but that did not matter, the end result would be the same. Gaara made a sharp gesture and sand flew at his brother, lifting him off his feet and pinning him against a wall. Kankuro grunted with the force of the impact and began to struggle. He pulled hard, dislodging Gaara from his perch. He tried to think, there had to be something else in his room that he could use as a weapon against Gaara. He was not allowed to keep his puppets or any other weapons in his room. It was so unfair, Gaara went everywhere with his dumb gourd, but Kankuro's father would not allow Kankuro to have his weapon close by. The only things he could see via the moonlight shining through the window were an untidy pile of books on his desk and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

"Stupid creep, let me the hell down!"

Gaara applied more pressure. Kankuro kept struggling, teeth bared in a snarl. Moonlight painted his features, making the expression even more feral.

"There is no one else here tonight. No one is coming to save you."

"Never mind me, what about you? I'm going to rip your arm off!"

If Gaara had a sense of humour, he might have found that funny. Kankuro had always intrigued Gaara with his swearing and yelling and strange jutsu. No matter how many times he did this, Kankuro refused to show fear, admit defeat, or beg Gaara to let him go. Maybe that was why Gaara had never killed him. Kankuro had even managed to hurt Gaara once and some part of him was eager for the day when that happened again, when he might feel something other than madness and lust for blood.

He released his brother. "This bores me and you are not worth it."

By the time Kankuro slid to the ground, he was gone and so was the sand. Kankuro rested on his hands and knees a few moments, getting his wind back. He got to his feet, went to the bedroom door, and checked the hallway. Gaara was gone and everything was quiet; his father must have had a late meeting or was attending to some emergency. Kankuro shut the door and set the latch (not that it would keep Gaara out). He climbed back into his bed and rolled onto his back. He stared at the ceiling; once his heart stopped pounding, he should be able to fall back asleep. He was pretty sure that Gaara would not come back, but a good shinobi never assumed anything. He sat up and looked around; he should prepare, just in case.

"It's not fair," he muttered and kicked at the sheets in frustration. "I'll bet Temari gets to have a stupid fan in her room."

An idea occurred to him; he was not supposed to do it, but his father was not here. He probably would not return until morning and Kankuro would be up and gone by then. He grabbed his pillow and a blanket and went to the door. He lifted the latch and leaned out to check the hallway. Once he was sure it was clear, he crept out to the workshop. He grinned up at Karasu, who was hanging in his usual place. The puppet was the only thing properly put away in the small room.

"I hope he comes out here and tries to start something. We'll kick his ass then. Won't we Karasu?"

Kankuro put his blanket and pillow down in front of the puppet, lay down, and went to sleep.

-0000-

"Kankuro wake up."

Kankuro curled into a ball and pulled his blanket over his head.

"Umph, ten more minutes."

"Now Kankuro!"

Something in the tone of the voice made Kankuro sit up. He groaned, he had overslept and his father had found him in the workshop. He knuckled sleep out of his eyes and tried to come up with a good excuse.

The Fourth Kazekage frowned down at him. "What have I told you about this?"

"I didn't mean to, if I could just…"

"No, that's not it."

"But Gaara…"

"Don't use your brother as an excuse. What was it?"

Kankuro sighed, his shoulders slumping. "No puppets in the house, they're weapons, not wall art." A new argument occurred to him. "But I was allowed to have my snake with me."

"That was not a weapon."

"But a good shinobi should always have his weapons ready, right? How can I do that, when Karasu's way out here?"

The Kazekage squatted down in front of his son. "You are right about one thing; a good shinobi is always prepared. But what have I told you is your most important weapon?"

Kankuro deflated further. "But that's not the same thing, it's…"

"What is it?"

Kankuro tapped his forehead. "It's this, my brain."

"That is correct and it is with you at all times. You just have to learn to use it, Kankuro."

Kankuro sighed. "Yes, otō-san."

"Right then. So, let's get this day started, shall we? What are you doing today?"

"Classes until two, training with Baki, Gaara, and Temari until four. Are we ever going to get another mission? Training is boring."

"Is it? Then I suppose you don't want to do some training with me today?"

Kankuro sat up straight, his eyes going wide. "Really?"

"Yes, really." The Kazekage tapped Kankuro's forehead. "We'll work on using this."

"How do we do that?"

"You'll see." He held up a hand to forestall any more questions. "But first you have to get ready for the day. Go and get washed. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes."

"Yes, otō-san."

The Kazekage stood and left. Kankuro leaned back and grinned up at Karasu.

"What do you think it will be? Another type of weapon? Maybe you can learn to spit acid or something cool like that. Maybe another puppet. That would be the best!"

He scooped up his blanket and pillow and hurried into the house.

-0000-

Kankuro wrinkled his nose and looked up at his father. "A library? What are we going to do here?"

"Just as I said, training."

"With books? That's not training, that's studying."

Kankuro felt a huge wave of disappointment crash over him.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I can do that in the school library."

"Ah," his father raised a finger, "but this is not the school library, it's a library just for shinobi. This is training, for your mind, just like we talked about this morning."

Kankuro made a face, still not convinced.

The Kazekage nudged his shoulder. "Let's go, I think you will be pleasantly surprised. You did not need to bring the puppet."

Kankuro adjusted the straps that held Karasu's heavy body in place. "You said we would be _training_. I need Karasu for that."

"Hmm, well." The Kazekage thought for a moment. "Actually, it's not a bad idea. She will be interested to see it."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see."

His father led the way into the small building. Kankuro was surprised to notice that it smelled a little like his work shop. There was the rich smell of wood, varnish, and glue, and there was another scent too, dry and almost musty. Kankuro guessed that it must be the books. And there were so many books. The library was a lot bigger than it looked on the outside, it could probably hold several school libraries and still have room left over. They passed shelves and shelves of books and scrolls, all in a neat and orderly alignment.

They finally arrived at a desk, which Kankuro guessed was a reception desk, because there was someone sitting behind it. It was a woman with dark gray flecked hair. She was wearing a pair of reading glasses. She looked up from a book as they approached. The glasses made it hard to tell what colour her eyes were.

"Kazekage-sama, good afternoon. How nice to see you again."

The Kazekage smiled. "Keiko-san, the pleasure is all mine."

It was a genuine smile, Kankuro noticed, not the one his father used when he had to be polite.

"I would like you to meet my son. Kankuro, this is Keiko-san. She is the librarian here."

Kankuro braced himself for all the usual stupid comments about how much he looked like his father, how nice that he was becoming a shinobi, and wasn't the Kazekage proud. He was pretty sure that he would hear the most hated comment of all, Keiko looked like the type, that Kankuro was just…so…cute.

However, Keiko said none of the usual things; she hardly seemed to see Kankuro at all. Instead, her eyes settled on Karasu's shaggy hair, sticking up over Kankuro's shoulder. The librarian cocked her head; it looked like she was trying to remember something.

"Hmm, battle puppet, attack style, humanoid, 45 kilos, brown hair and it looks like he has two pairs of arms. A scorpion maker's mark here?" She tapped her chin.

Kankuro nodded, too surprised to say anything.

"One of Sasori's, that is a little disconcerting. This must be Karasu, from folio number 27-96-297a. Well, good day to you Karasu, and good day to you too, Kankuro. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Kankuro gaped at the woman. No one had ever recognized Karasu before and Kankuro was the only one who called him by his name, the way a puppeteer was supposed to.

His father nudged him; he wanted Kankuro to make the appropriate response to Keiko's greeting.

"Are you a puppeteer?" he blurted out instead.

"Oh goodness, no. I am a librarian. I just recognized Karasu from the description of him in one of our reference collections."

"Reference collections? You mean books about puppets?"

There was nothing in the school library about puppet arts, which had caused trouble because some of the kids would not believe that there was such a thing. Kankuro had gotten into more than one fight over it.

"How many? Where are they?" he demanded.

"Kankuro," his father said in a warning tone.

"Uh, sorry. It's very nice to meet you too, Keiko-san."

"Not a problem at all, and yes we have books about puppets. I assume that you are most interested in the ones shinobi use, rather than those used for entertainment?"

Kankuro nodded.

"I thought so. We have a modest collection that covers several topics: history of the art, major battles, lists of puppets and their makers…"

"Keiko-san," the Kazekage interrupted, "before you do that…"

"My apologies Kazekage-sama. I do have those materials you requested ready."

Keiko's attention wandered away for a few moments. "Would you excuse me, please, Kazekage-sama? I will return shortly."

The Kazekage nodded, but Keiko did not seem to notice. She got up from the desk and strode off into the maze of shelves.

The Kazekage looked at Kankuro, one eyebrow raised. "So?"

"She knew Karasu! Can I see the books about puppets?"

"You will have to ask Keiko-san about that. But, I thought studying was boring?" The Kazekage grinned at his son.

Kankuro wrinkled his nose at the teasing tone; his father had known that he would be interested in this.

"I said _training_ was boring. This place is so much cooler than the school library. Do you come here a lot? Thank-you for bringing me, otō-san."

"A thank-you? You must be impressed. I come here when I need help deciding difficult matters. There are many useful things here and I find these surroundings more conducive to clear thinking."

"You mean you don't like those stupid council members bugging you in your office, so you come here instead. You should just get Baki or someone to throw them out when they do that."

The Kazekage could not stifle his short bark of laughter. There were days when he wished he could do just that, and he was sure that Baki would be pleased to do more than just toss certain council members out of his office.

"Kankuro, you know that I can't…"

"Ah, Kazekage-sama, so sorry about that." Keiko had returned.

Kankuro noticed that she came back from the complete opposite direction of her departure. The librarian adjusted her glasses and sat back down at her desk.

She made a short sound of displeasure. "It is so disruptive when people cannot be bothered to follow the rules, isn't it?"

"Is there a problem, Keiko-san? Could I help?"

She waved the offer away. "No, no, but thank-you for your kind offer. I am sure you have more important things to do. Now, where were we? Oh, yes, shall I set you up in your usual spot?"

"Yes, please, that would be excellent."

"Good and as for you Kankuro…"

The librarian's gaze settled on him. Light winked off her glasses and Kankuro was reminded of the way sunlight would flash off steel. It was so strange, the way she was looking at him. He was being assessed…no, catalogued was maybe a better word.

Whatever, Kankuro thought, it is a little creepy. Not as creepy as the way Gaara stares, but still creepy.

"Where to start…?" she mused. "Ah, just the thing. There is that inventory done some years ago by a student of the Third. It has excellent drawings and clear descriptions. That will be perfect for a…"

Kankuro knew what she was going to say next. "I'm _not_ a child! I'm eleven and I'm a shinobi, damn it!"

Kankuro hunched his shoulders up and made a face. He was not a child! He was a puppeteer and a shinobi. He had been on more missions then some of the chunin even.

Keiko's eyebrows lifted. "If profanity makes a man then I suppose you are one."

The Kazekage's large hand smacked into the back of Kankuro's head. "Boy, you will apologize this instant!"

The blow rocked Kankuro forward. He almost overbalanced because of Karasu's weight. He put his hands out to stop himself from crashing into the desk and Karasu's head slammed into the side of his head. He pressed his lips together and blinked to keep his eyes from watering. It really hurt, but he would not yell out or rub the back of his head.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, "but I'm not…"

"Kankuro! Don't make me…!"

"Indoor voice, please," Keiko said.

Kankuro ducked his head down further. He took a quick look at his father to make sure that he was not going to get smacked again, but the Kazekage was looking at Keiko with an incredulous expression on his face.

"I am afraid you misunderstand, Kankuro," Keiko continued. "What I was going to say was…it is a perfect start for your first visit. Regardless of your age, you must demonstrate the proper respect for the books before you are allowed access."

"Respect? For books?" Kankuro was not sure if he had heard Keiko right. His head was ringing a bit.

"Of course, for the books, and the knowledge they contain. Knowledge, information, these are a shinobi's best weapons. Therefore, they must be respected."

"That's wrong, my brain is my best weapon," Kankuro said.

"Damn it boy," the Kazekage growled.

"Well, that's what _you_ said," Kankuro protested.

"Enough! If you can't be civil, then we will leave."

"No way! I want to see…"

"Both of you stop, please." Keiko sank back into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Yes, Kankuro your brain is your best weapon, but it only works when it is well exercised and well fed. Knowledge is what feeds it."

"That makes sense I guess," Kankuro said, "but…"

The Kazekage glared a warning at him. It was always the same thing with Kankuro, the Kazekage found himself torn between his pride in the boy's intelligence and his frustration with the boy's belligerence. The classic curse of parenthood was coming true with a vengeance; Kankuro was just like his father.

Kankuro shut his mouth and chewed the inside of his lip in frustration. He really wanted to see the books Keiko had mentioned. It was not fair to bring him here, tell him that books about puppets existed, and then not let him see them. He sighed, he knew what would work, it would sound lame, but it would do the trick.

"Keiko-san." He made his voice small and his eyes large. "I am very sorry. I promise I will be very careful with any book you see fit to give me."

He made a very deep bow, forgetting that he had Karasu strapped to his back. He tried to stop, but the momentum carried him right over so he smacked into Keiko's desk and then crashed to the floor.

"Damn it! Stupid desk!"

He scrambled to his feet, rubbing his forehead this time.

Idiot, he thought, you are so clumsy. It was working and then you screwed it up.

He looked at his father. The Kazekage's face was red and he had his chin tilted up in the way that meant that he was really, really angry. Kankuro grimaced; he was going to get it when they got home.

Keiko had her hand pressed to her mouth. It took Kankuro a moment to realize that she was trying hard not to laugh. He scowled at her.

"Oh my," she said, "he is just like you Kazekage-sama. Alright, the illustrated catalogue it is. I also have a history book you might like, it is the history of the village and it has a very good chapter on the role of puppeteers in several important battles. Is that acceptable?"

Kankuro started to nod, but then looked at his father for permission. The Kazekage rolled his eyes heavenward.

"How am I supposed to refuse a shinobi his best weapons? Honestly, boy, someday I swear…"

"Please don't Kazekage-sama," Keiko said. "I've heard quite enough for one day."


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Kankuro came awake with a start and sat up. He had been sitting on the floor of his father's office, reading one of the books from the library. The book was interesting, but he had not gotten much sleep the night before (Gaara's fault) and so he had dozed off.

When he had fallen asleep, his father had been alone, working on his never ending pile of paperwork, but now the room was full of people. Baki was there, along with some other council members, and two unfamiliar shinobi. One was just a few years older than Kankuro, with silver hair and glasses, and the other…

Kankuro had spent enough time hanging around his father's office and in council meetings to be able to recognize Orochimaru. One of the sannin, former Leaf shinobi, former Akatsuki member, and a man with a huge price on his head was standing in his father's office. Judging from the expressions on everyone's faces, the visit was unannounced and unwelcome. Baki's fists were clenched and his father looked furious. One of the council members, a merchant named Saito, looked worried, but the other council members looked confused.

Idiots, Kankuro thought, they have no clue.

He shifted the book aside and slid back into the corner, trying to remain quiet and unnoticed. This was going to be too interesting to miss.

"People do not just show up here unannounced," the Kazekage said. "You should quickly convince me why I should not kill you."

Orochimaru laughed, it was an unpleasant sound that made Kankuro shiver a little.

"Quite simple, if you kill me then you won't hear the interesting things I have to tell you. It amuses me that you think you could." His nose wrinkled in disdain. "Second rate shinobi from a second rate village just barely maintaining its status; I do not know if your confidence is a sign of spirit or just pathetic."

Baki growled and stepped forward. Kankuro sprang to his feet and growled too, but no one heard him over the protests everyone else made. Kankuro mentally urged his sensei on; he could slice that idiot into small pieces in seconds.

The Kazekage held up a hand to keep everyone in place. He bared his teeth at Orochimaru, but his tone was civil. "Backwater we may be, but we have manners and rules. You should have realized that after what happened to your assistant the other day."

He gestured at Orochimaru's companion and Kankuro noticed that his hand was bandaged.

"We have rules here and if you can't follow them…"

Orochimaru waved the lecture aside. "Yes, who would have thought that you would be so protective of that moldering pile you call a library. I will admit that your guardian is impressive. Not many can hurt my Kabuto."

The library! Kankuro's eyes went wide. He remembered Keiko leaving them and then coming back, looking upset, but he could not believe that she had done anything. He looked at Kabuto. Maybe she had, the guy looked like a wimp to Kankuro. He wondered what they had wanted in the library and why they had tried to sneak in to get it.

"…still not convinced," the Kazekage was talking again.

Kankuro gave himself a mental kick in the behind.

Pay attention idiot, he thought, something important is happening.

"Oh, but I think you are. Why else would we still be talking?" Orochimaru looked around him. "However, I do not think we should continue with this audience. There are too many ignorant ears, too many unimportant ears, and too many underage ears. Is that one of your brats skulking in the corner?"

His gaze flicked over Kankuro, negligent at first and then more focused. The boy fell under his power; very few could resist even Orochimaru's weakest genjutsu. Orochimaru was impressed by the way he fought against it, though. The boy could not move, but he was glaring at Orochimaru, chin raised in defiance. He took note of the boy's impressive chakra, the potential of his sturdy body, and his well made hands. Everyone knew about the Kazekage's youngest son and his immense power and Orochimaru had reports on the girl who was the student of the Sand's most dangerous kunoichi, the Wind Dancer, but he had heard little about this boy. Orochimaru felt a touch of irritation at this lapse in intelligence gathering, someone had overlooked this boy and his enormous potential.

So much chakra, so well controlled, Orochimaru thought. Who is this child?

Something pushed Orochimaru's mind aside; it was the Kazekage.

"Kankuro," the Kazekage said, "I think you should go. Leave your book on my desk. I'll bring it home later."

"But…" Kankuro protested, trying not to wheeze. It was hard to get his breath back. It was like Orochimaru had applied Gaara's Sand Coffin to his brain.

"Now," the Kazekage ordered. "Eisuke, would you mind going with him? Akaike, Nei, please excuse yourselves as well."

"I want…" Kankuro started.

"I said now!"

Kankuro set the book on his father's desk with a defiant thump. He scowled at Kabuto as he stalked out; the guy was smirking at him. It was so unfair; he was being sent away with Eisuke to babysit him, like some little kid. He stopped in the corridor outside the office and was barely able to resist the urge to run his tongue out at the closed door.

The other council members walked away, looking concerned and confused. Eisuke gave Kankuro a little grin and then shrugged. He did not like being sent away either and he thought that he was a little old to be given babysitting duty. He had gotten the job of watching Kankuro when he was younger and they had continued to hang out as the years passed. Eisuke was learning the family business and Kankuro was learning to be a shinobi, so they both attended council meetings to watch their fathers. Eisuke also suspected that Kankuro just wanted to spend time with his father; he had felt the same way when he had been younger.

Eisuke shrugged his shoulders again, something intense had happened in the office, but he was not sure what. Eisuke had once hoped to become a shinobi and although he was smart and quick to learn, he had no chakra control at all. Even the most basic jutsu was beyond him. He could continue training, he was told, but he should never expect to advance too far. Eisuke had been bitterly disappointed at the time, but since then had come to accept it. His family was happy to have him stay in the business and since he had become his father's assistant he still got to be part of the shinobi world.

"Well, I guess that's some important information that guy has. Too big for small fry like us, eh?"

Kankuro grumbled something, glaring at the door.

"So that's the infamous Orochimaru. Well, I got to say; it's hard to take a guy in make up seriously unless they're on stage. Do you know who the other guy was?"

Kankuro snorted. "A four eyed wimp. He's wearing that bandage because of some _librarian_. Moron." Kankuro's nose wrinkled in disdain for a few moments more and then his shoulders slumped. "It's not fair…"

"Yeah, I suppose, but," Eisuke raised a finger, "the good news is, this means we get the afternoon off. And you know what today is?"

Twice a month there was a large open air market in the village. Merchants would come from all over to sell and buy things and there were food vendors and sometimes buskers. Both the genin and the young merchant liked to go to people watch and listen to the gossip. There was always news about what trade routes were safe, what items were selling in other villages, and what was going on in other lands. Kankuro knew that Baki frowned on that sort of thing, but a lot of what he heard was useful. Sometimes he knew about stuff before any other of the shinobi his age because of what he heard at the market. Eisuke listened for much the same reason; any tidbit might give his family an edge in business.

Kankuro also liked to watch the buskers, especially if they were puppeteers. Their puppets were not as great as Karasu; they were controlled by rods, not chakra, but Kankuro still liked to watch. Someday he planned to make his own puppets and wanted ideas about what they should look like and what they should do, it seemed like a puppet show was as good as place as any to get ideas. If a puppet troupe was the starting point of Chikamatsu Monzaemon, the father of the puppet techniques, Kankuro figured that it was a good place for him to start as well.

"I know, but…I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Nope, you're not and me neither." Eisuke was almost twenty-one, in fact. "But sometimes you just have to leave things to your superiors. C'mon, I'm sure that if it's that important, then Baki-san or Kazekage-sama will tell you later."

Kankuro stuck his lip out. "Probably not." Something occurred to him and his expression brightened. "But your otō-san will tell you and then you can tell me. Right?"

"Hmm, I suppose. And in return I'll get…what?"

Kankuro made an exasperated sound. "Stop acting like a merchant would you?"

Eisuke shrugged and spread his hands. "I am what I am. So, trade with me Kankuro-san. Information for…"

Kankuro knew what he wanted, sometimes he would carve things. He thought that most of the stuff that emerged from the blocks of wood he used was stupid, but Eisuke seemed to think that they were good enough to sell. So they would trade, a carving for whatever Kankuro wanted; money or, like now, information. It was actually not such a bad deal; he put idle time to good use and got spending money that was not monitored by Baki or his father.

"One, there's a tree frog I just did."

"For intel this juicy? Hardly. Five."

"Five!" Kankuro made his eyes round and large and pouted a little more. "You're just trying to take advantage because I'm a kid. Two."

"Oh, so _now_ you're a kid, huh? Save that dewy eyed look for the girls, Kankuro. I'll meet you in the middle. Three."

Kankuro made a show of considering it. "Okay, deal."

He actually had two little carvings set aside and it would not take long to make a third. They shook on it and then Eisuke rubbed his hands together.

"That was an excellent warm up. So now, we go to market and see what there is to see. Okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks Eisuke."

Once they reached the market, they visited several booths and then stopped for dumplings and tea.

"This is much better then some cramped office," Eisuke said. "The dumpling vendor said that there was a puppet troupe in for a show. It's been about ten years since they've been here, so they'll be new to you. Want to go see after we finish here?"

"Are they any good?"

"As I recall, yes."

"Let's go then."

There was a large crowd watching the troupe. They were performing in front of a horse drawn caravan with colourful sides that provided a back drop for the performance. They were not using a raised platform as a stage which made it hard to see from the edge of the crowd. So after a few frustrating minutes of getting brief glimpses of the performance, Kankuro began to push his way through the crowd. Eisuke followed in the genin's wake, apologizing from time to time to patrons who took exception to being bulldozed aside by a small, but determined shinobi.

Once he got to the front of the crowd Kankuro stopped, looking back at Eisuke with a grin.

"Much better."

Kankuro turned his attention to the show. It was a large troupe and the puppets were spectacular. The performers' movements were perfectly coordinated and fluid. It was hard to imagine that they were puppets, but Kankuro could see the wooden dowels that controlled them.

"Told you they were good," Eisuke said.

Kankuro nodded, he was trying to get a good look at the puppeteers. They were shapeless forms in robes and bunraku cowls; it was even hard to tell if they were men or women. Then the one of the puppeteers caught his attention. She, Kankuro was pretty sure it was an old woman, must have felt him looking at her because she lifted her head and stared directly at him.

Kankuro gasped, he had felt a surge of chakra from her. It was something that two shinobi might do when they first met, almost like a handshake but without the dangers that went with touching someone you did not know. Sometimes it was a greeting and sometimes it was a warning.

He concentrated, trying to make his pulse of chakra controlled and strong, just as he had been taught. Her black eyes glittered with amusement and she smirked at him.

Is that all you have, the look seemed to say.

She made a gesture and Kankuro realized that although she was holding a control rod for a puppet she was not using it. She was using chakra strings just like he did. He focused all his attention on her, watching her technique and trying to figure out which puppets she was controlling. When the play came to an end, he pushed through the dispersing crowd. He had to talk to her! When he got to the caravan she was gone and the other puppeteers were packing the puppets away. He looked around and caught a glimpse of her heading down a narrow street.

"Hey Kankuro." Eisuke was trying to catch up with him.

Kankuro paused, if he waited for Eisuke he would lose her.

"I'll be back. Don't worry." He waved at the merchant and then took off after the puppeteer, dodging easily through the crowd.

Eisuke tried to follow. It was getting late and this part of the village could get dangerous at night. But after a few moments he had to give up; he had lost track of Kankuro.

"The kid's pretty quick when he doesn't have that puppet strapped to his back," he muttered, trying not to imagine the conversation he would be having with his father and the Kazekage if anything happened to Kankuro.

But he is a shinobi, Eisuke thought, so he should be able to take care of himself.

Eisuke made his way back to where the puppet show had been to find the caravan already packed up and ready to go. He decided to wait thirty minutes and then he would go and get Baki.

Kankuro hurried after the old woman, running when the crowds let him. She continued to stay ahead of him, but she stayed in sight. He followed her off the main street and down several smaller side streets. They were in a section of the village that he did not know all that well and it was like a maze. She made a sudden turn and disappeared from view. Kankuro followed her into an open space that had several passages leading off of it.

He skidded to a stop. "What the hell?"

The old woman had disappeared. Kankuro kicked at the ground in frustration. Then he collected himself and tried to track her chakra.

"Crap," he muttered after a few moments.

There was no trace of her anywhere.

She's messing with me, he thought, no way she gets away with that.

He picked one of the passages at random and headed along it, alert for any sign of her. He ran along for a couple of minutes before the passage came to a dead end so he turned around and trotted back to the open space. He picked a second passage and started down it when something smacked into the back of his head.

"What the…?" he whirled around, kunai in hand.

A small monkey leapt into the air at him, chattering loudly. The monkey landed on his shoulder, pulled his hair, and bounced away. It landed on the ground in front of him, still chattering. It sounded to Kankuro like it was laughing at him.

"Stupid monkey. Shut the…" Kankuro stopped.

The monkey was a puppet. It was very realistic, with short brown fur and large brown eyes. It was dressed in a small red vest and hat, just as real performing monkeys were, but Kankuro could tell that it was a puppet.

The monkey did a couple of back flips and then launched itself at Kankuro again. He threw up one hand to block it and slashed at the monkey with his kunai. He managed to slice off the tip of its tail. The monkey pulled his hair again and then launched itself onto a wall. It scampered along and then jumped off to land on the old woman's shoulder. Kankuro did not see where she came from; he had been distracted by the monkey.

"Nasty child, look what you have done to my Cheechee."

She patted the puppet's head; the monkey stuck its small pink tongue out and blew a raspberry at Kankuro.

"Why are you following me?"

"You're a puppeteer. Who are you?"

"Rude and not very bright, that's a bad combination. My occupation is obvious to anyone with eyes."

"No, I mean you're a _puppeteer_." Kankuro pointed at the monkey. "Chakra, not strings. Who are you? Where did you get that puppet?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"I want to know. I'm a puppeteer too."

"Really?" she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Where are your puppets?"

"He's at home. I'm not…" Kankuro stopped. He was not going to tell her that he was not allowed to carry Karasu when he was not training or on missions.

"One puppet? That's all?"

Kankuro scowled at her. "So what? Karasu's better than a dozen puppets. He's way faster than that thing!" He pointed at the monkey.

"Karasu?" She had been smirking at Kankuro, but when she heard his puppet's name, the expression fell from her face. She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's one of _his_. Who are you, boy? And why do you have one of Sasori's creatures?"

"He's mine. Who the hell are you?"

"I don't know who has been instructing you, but manners have not been on the curriculum." She shook her head. "_His_ abominations should have been destroyed when he left. Who gave you that puppet?"

She took a step towards him. The monkey hissed at him, showing small pointy teeth. Kankuro raised his kunai.

"My otō-san."

"Who gave him the right to do that?"

"He didn't need permission, he's the Kazekage."

"Ignorant child, even the Kazekage does not have authority to make that decision. You have to earn it. You earn the right to a master's puppet before you make your own. Did you undertake the challenge? Have you earned your mask?"

She saw the puzzled expression on his face.

"You have no idea what that means. You are _not_ a puppeteer; there have been no more since Sasori left." She shook her head. "It's _her_ fault, her and that Ebizo, that we started to lose our traditions. All that mattered to them was making the puppets more ferocious, more powerful." She paused to rub the monkey's head again and her expression became almost sad. "They forgot that the true strength of the puppeteer is here." She tapped her chest. "Not in the puppet, no matter what has been done to it. They forgot that and it led them to things that should have been left alone." She stepped closer and her expression became menacing. "Where is it? It should be destroyed."

"Like hell." Kankuro braced himself, she might be old but he knew better than to underestimate her. "No way that happens. Just try it and you'll be sorry."

Her mocking laugh made him growl.

"You are a fierce little cub; all claws and hisses. That sounds like a challenge to me. Fine then, defeat me and that puppet is yours, for better or worse. Lose and…"

Kankuro snorted. "Why would I do that? He's mine already."

"Afraid?"

"Hell no!"

She smirked at him. Kankuro scowled back.

"Fine then! I'll fight you. And when I win…"

"Humph. We will meet here again the day after tomorrow. And in the unlikely event of your success, you will get what all puppeteers who pass this test get."

"What is…?"

He did not see her toss the smoke bomb between them. Kankuro backpedalled until he felt the wall at his back and then reassumed his defensive stance. The monkey jumped on his head, pulled his hair one last time and bounced away. When the smoke cleared, he was alone.

Kankuro took one last quick look around to make sure that she was not hiding somewhere close by and then started to make his way back to Eisuke. He made several extra turns and backtracked twice to make sure that he was not followed.

Eisuke heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Kankuro. "I was starting to worry. What happened?"

Kankuro told him. He looked around for the caravan.

"Did she come back here?"

"No, one of the other troupe members drove it off a few minutes ago. He had this little monkey; they did some tricks and then left."

"Was it dressed in red? Did it have the end of its tail missing?"

Eisuke thought for a moment. "Yeah, now that you mention it, it was missing the tip of its tail. How did you know that?"

"It was a puppet. Her puppet. I'll bet they both were."

Kankuro walked over to where the stage had been and picked something up. It was the first two joints of a wooden finger; the nail was painted green. Kankuro rolled it between his fingers, trying to remember which puppet had green nails. Then he realized something, it explained why he had had such a hard time figuring out which puppet the old woman had been controlling.

He looked up at Eisuke, his eyes wide. "They were _all_ puppets. All of them, except for her."


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Kankuro headed towards the main desk of the library. As he walked he planned what he would have to say to get what he wanted. A challenge from another shinobi was a serious matter, on par with an S-ranked mission. He needed to come up with a strategy to face the old woman and to do that he needed information. Much of what the old lady had said made no sense to him.

He had thought about asking his father or Baki about Sasori and about masks, but had decided that would be a bad idea. Once they found out what had happened he might not be allowed to fight her.

But I'm a shinobi and not a kid anymore, he thought, so _I_ decide what challenges I accept.

He had thought and thought about whom he might ask, but came up with nothing. Then he realized that there might be a way to find what he needed to know on his own.

Or almost on my own, he thought, there's just one person I need to get by.

Keiko was seated at the desk, reading a book. She looked up as he approached. "Kankuro, good afternoon. I did not expect to see you again so soon."

"Hello, Keiko-san. I finished this and I wanted to return it as soon as possible in case someone else wanted it."

That was mostly true, he had finished the looking through the catalogue, but returning it gave him an excuse to visit the library again.

"How thoughtful of you. I will see that it gets reshelved as soon as possible. Is there anything else you need?"

Kankuro suppressed the urge to grin; it was going just as he had hoped. "Do you have any books on tactics that are specific to puppets?"

Keiko thought for a few moments. "There is a manual on deployment tactics for large scale battle and another on assassination scenarios. Is that what you want?"

"No, not really."

Keiko frowned and thought some more. Kankuro felt a touch of discouragement. There had to be something in all those books to help him!

"There may be something else," she said. "It is a book of stories; Ten Tales of Ten Puppets by Chikamatsu Monzaemon. They are loosely based on some of his adventures. It's not a tactical manual per say, but if you are looking for examples of how a shinobi might use his puppets, it might do."

"That sounds perfect! Can I see it?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Keiko said.

Kankuro's hope dimmed again, she was not going to let him see it, or worse she would want him to get his father's permission first. That would be bad; it would lead to questions that he did not want to answer.

"Why not?! I'll be careful with it."

"Oh, that's not it." A small smile appeared on Keiko's lips. "It's just that the book is intended for a younger audience. And as you said the other day…"

Kankuro stared at her a moment in surprise. She was teasing him! He was used to that, Temari teased him and a lot of the kids at school did too. But this felt different, she was not trying to hurt him or make him feel like an idiot. A grin spread across his face, he probably deserved it.

It might be a kid's book, but he still wanted to see it. "I'm sorry about that Keiko-san. But if you think it might help me, I would really like to read it."

"Well, if nothing else it might inspire you design some attacks of your own. Puppeteers were always trying to outdo each other with innovative attack combinations."

"Really?" Kankuro paused, it was going well, he would not need permission to read a kid's book, but he was not finished. He had one more thing to ask and it might not be as easy. "I was also wondering, do have anything on the things puppeteers do, their…uh...traditions?"

"Hmm, no not really." A puzzled look appeared on her face. "But the Kazekage is teaching you all these things, correct?"

Kankuro thought fast, trying to come up with something that would not make Keiko suspicious. "Of course he is. I was just looking for a little more: the why behind the what."

"Very well put, Kankuro, and it is a very good idea."

"Well, if I'm going to be a puppeteer then I should know why they do things. Otherwise that's…it's just stupid. If I'm just going through the motions without thinking about why I do them, I'm no better than a puppet. A shinobi trains for others to command, but I need to make my own decisions about how those commands get done."

The speech had been intended to divert Keiko's suspicions, but as soon as he said it, Kankuro realized that it was the truth. It made him realize something; he had never been offered a choice about being a puppeteer, the training had been going on for as long as he could remember. He did not mind; nothing was better than working with Karasu and he would not trade the puppet for anything. However, he was learning that there was more to it; things that his father was not telling him.

So I'll just have to find them out for myself, he thought. I have a right to know. I'm the _puppeteer_, not the puppet.

Keiko looked impressed. "Again, very well put. You have the spirit of a Sand shinobi Kankuro, but I should not have expected any less."

"Thank-you Keiko-san. So do you have anything that might help?"

"As I said, there is nothing direct, but I have a biography of Chikamatsu Monzaemon that includes passages from his personal journal. It is not a description of puppeteer customs, but it might give you insight into what he was thinking as he developed the art. It's a heavy read, but you can ask the Kazekage or Baki for help with any difficult passages."

Absolutely not, Kankuro thought.

"Yes, of course, Keiko-san," he said.

"Good. So two books it is. Wait here and I'll go get them."

"Yes, Keiko-san. Thank-you."

"You are most welcome."

She got up and disappeared between some shelves. Kankuro waited a few moments to be sure she was out of ear shot before he made a triumphant gesture.

"Yes! Result!"

While he waited he planned what he would do next. He had to find some time and a place where he could read and hide the books. Then he would have to come up with something and practice it before the fight.

"Well, what do we have here?" said a raspy voice behind him.

Kankuro jumped, he had not heard or sensed anyone. Something pinned his arms to his sides and a heavy weight knocked him to the floor. There was hissing noise near his head and beady black eyes appeared centimeters away from Kankuro's face. He was wrapped in the coils of a huge snake! The snake hissed again and its tongue flicked across Kankuro's cheek.

Orochimaru's voice floated down from behind. "All alone are we?" Long fingers pushed into Kankuro's hair and pulled his head to the side. "You're probably too young to survive my mark, but…nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Warm breath wafted across his neck, Kankuro kicked his feet and tried to move his arms. It had happened so fast, there had been no warning at all, but now he could feel the powerful signature of Orochimaru's chakra, twisting and coiling around him. Then just as suddenly, everything went gray and shadowy. Something passed through Kankuro's line of sight; he glimpsed a lithe red-gray form and shiny black eyes. The coils around him loosened and the snake lunged away. The next thing Kankuro knew, he was flying across the room to land hard against a book shelf. He scrambled to his feet and looked around; he could see again. Orochimaru was gone, the snake was gone, and the shadowy form was gone.

"Kankuro are you alright?" Keiko was back, standing behind her desk.

Kankuro nodded, trying to get his breath back.

"Come here please."

He walked to the desk, the librarian peered down at him over the top of her glasses; her gaze intent and serious. Kankuro took a deep breath. He was feeling lightheaded, probably from being squeezed by the snake.

After a few moments, Keiko pushed her glasses back up. "Very good, I got back in time."

"That was Orochimaru! What the…what was that? What was he doing?"

"The same as yourself, looking for information. However, he is not longer welcomed by this place, so he had to leave."

"No longer welcomed…what does that mean?"

"Just as it sounds. This is a library, with knowledge for any shinobi who asks. However, when a person abuses that precious gift, they are banned. The library no longer welcomes them."

"You mean you don't allow them to take out books anymore."

"You can think of it that way if you like."

Kankuro frowned. "So what happened to him? He was there and then…just gone. I thought I saw…a weasel."

"A weasel? Oh goodness no, Kankuro. The dentition _is_ similar, but the ovular pupils and body to tail ratio should have given it away. But then again, you were a little distracted." She held up one hand to stop any further questions. "You are safe and he is gone." She patted two books sitting on the desk. "I have the material you requested. Please be careful with it."

"Of course. Thank-you Keiko-san."

Kankuro picked up the books. Keiko was staring at him over the top of her glasses again. All of a sudden, Kankuro was sure that she knew he had not been completely honest with her.

After what seemed like ages, she nodded. "I think that you will be careful with them. And please, try to be careful with what you learn. Yes?"

Kankuro heaved a sigh of relief. "I will try. Thank-you very much…for everything."

"You are most welcome. You must let me know if they were of any use when you come back."

-0000-

The sun was starting to climb to its mid-morning height, clearing the rim of the narrow gorge where Baki was training with his students. Temari walked up the slope to where Baki was standing with Kankuro. She had been sparring with Gaara and was covered in sand.

She took a drink from her water bottle and made a disgruntled sound. "Five whole minutes that took. He's just too strong."

"You got a little sand on your nose there," Kankuro said with a grin.

Temari stuck her tongue out at him. "Let's see you do better."

Kankuro looked up at Baki. "Can I?"

"If Gaara wants to. Where is he?"

"Right here." Gaara appeared from behind a rock. "Let him try his pathetic tricks." He paused. "When can I do it for real again? It is meaningless when there is no blood."

"Pathetic! Like hell! I'll show you pathetic." Kankuro started down the slope, ignoring Baki's rebuke over his swearing. As he passed his brother, a tendril of sand snaked around his leg and tripped him. Kankuro tumbled down the slope and Karasu slipped off his back.

"It is pointless to even try."

"Like hell. You can't put a hand on me."

Kankuro threw a kunai at Gaara. There was no reason to hold back when fighting him. A shield of sand stopped it.

"You are useless."

"Oh yeah, still don't see you getting any where near me."

"What is he trying to do?" Temari said to Baki. "Goading him like that will just make it worse."

Baki sighed and nodded. Some days it was almost as though Kankuro wanted to enrage Gaara to the point of losing control.

"C'mon, come and get me."

Sand lashed out, wrapping around his ankles and pulling him off his feet. Gaara dragged his brother, kicking and cursing, over to him. The sand lifted Kankuro off the ground so he was hanging upside down.

"Useless."

Kankuro was grinning at him; even upside down it was undiminished and fierce. There was something about the grin that bothered Gaara, no matter what he did to Kankuro he could not wipe that grin off his face and replace it with an expression of fear. Kankuro tried to grab Gaara; he swatted his hands away like they were flies. Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move. More arms. They came out of nowhere and wrapped around Gaara's waist, sliding between his body and his gourd.

"Heh, I think you got a little _too_ close."

The grin hanging in front of Gaara melted away to reveal Karasu's pegged teeth and crazy eyes. The puppet twisted and flipped over. The wooden limbs tightened, digging into Gaara's arms. Gaara saw the real Kankuro slipping out of Karasu's canvas wrappings over the puppet's shoulder. He scrambled away, heading towards a cluster of rocks that would provide a safe vantage point to continue his attack.

Gaara's eyes widened; the puppet was squeezing him hard enough to hurt. Kankuro was hurting him! The sensation confused Gaara; it was unpleasant, but it was a distraction from the burning rage he always felt. However, there was no way Kankuro would be able to hold him long enough to defeat him.

The puppet's second pair of arms lifted. Karasu's wrist flipped back and a kunai flew at Gaara. Gaara dropped down into the sand, slipping free of the arms and disappearing. The kunai just missed its target; it passed through his hair and a few red strands floated to the ground.

"Crap," Kankuro muttered. It had been going so well.

He made Karasu rise higher, shaking free of the last of his disguise. Kankuro was almost at the cluster of rocks, once he got there, he would be able to regroup and try something else.

"That hurt." Gaara's voice came from above. "But this will hurt more."

He stretched out his arms and made a wave of sand crash over his brother. It tumbled Kankuro back to the bottom of the slope and smashed him flat. Kankuro kicked and thrashed around, trying to get free. Gaara's face appeared above him. He stared down at his brother for a few heart beats, his face expressionless.

"Do not do that again." He looked over his shoulder, up at Baki. "I am finished with this. I will not do it again, until I can do it for real." He turned and left, followed by a cloud of sand.

Baki hurried down to Kankuro, followed by Temari. His student was struggling under a pile of sand and rock. They shifted the sand away and Baki helped Kankuro sit up.

"Are you injured?"

"No!" Kankuro wheezed. He looked around. "Where the hell did he go?! It's not over!"

"Kankuro!"

Temari snorted. "I think you must've gotten hit in the head. It was so over."

Kankuro shook his head, sending sand flying. "I wasn't finished yet!" He wiped his face and kicked his feet in frustration. "I had another attack to try."

He scrambled to his feet and went to check on Karasu. The puppet was coated in sand, but was otherwise undamaged. Kankuro sighed, it took forever to clean and oil his puppet when he got sand in his joints. He still had some reading to do and he wanted to practice some more before the fight. It would be hard to find time to do all those things.

Temari rolled her eyes. No matter how many times Gaara beat him, Kankuro would never admit defeat. She was not sure if that was a sign of determination or just plain stupid.

"Temari, what is your analysis?" Baki asked. Although sparring with Gaara always ended with Temari and Kankuro losing, their sensei still insisted that they analyze what happened.

Temari considered what she had seen. She had to admit that Kankuro did learn from his losses, anything that failed utterly was not repeated and anything that allowed him to last even a few minutes against Gaara was practiced until perfect. Today's attempt had been better than average; the attack combination had been interesting and pretty complicated.

That puppet is weird and ugly, she thought, and Kankuro always lets his temper get the best of him, but he _is_ getting stronger. The day may come when…

"Temari," Baki prompted.

"He managed to surprise Gaara using a combination of disguise and substitution. That was good. It might have worked better if he had been able to contain Gaara somehow, so he couldn't slip away like he did. And he was too slow getting to a safe place to continue the attack." She paused, thinking. "When did you do the replacement Kankuro?"

He looked up from Karasu. "When I stopped to take a whiz."

"When you stopped to relieve yourself Kankuro. Please." Baki pinched his nose between his fingers.

"Right. Then."

"That was too soon, you were hanging in that tight bundle for too long. It made you stiff so you moved even slower than usual."

"I'm not slow! Besides that wasn't the problem. The moron knocked me down the hill before I was ready." Kankuro gestured at the pile of canvas bindings to make them wrap up his puppet. "Stupid cheating sand flea," he muttered.

Baki raised his eyebrow. "You assumed the fight would be fair?"

"Well, yeah…" Kankuro's shoulders slumped when he realized his mistake. "I know, never assume anything. Ass, you, me…I get it. Temari's right about one thing though, I need some way to hold him still…or at least get him away from sand or soil. Otherwise he just slips right through." He hoisted his puppet onto his back. "I got close though. That's what you need to do with him, right?"

"Correct. Bringing the attack to close range is a good strategy for a long range fighter," Baki said. "The combination attack was a good idea. Did the Kazekage show you that?"

"No. Are we going back now?"

"You came up with it on your own?"

"No, not quite." Kankuro fidgeted with the straps at his shoulders. "I read about something similar in a book. I got it from that library otō-san took me to last week."

"That's right. So you met Keiko-san?"

"Yeah." Kankuro gave the straps one final tug. "Can I run back? I need to work on my stamina and speed, right?"

"It could not hurt. Alright, go on ahead."

Kankuro nodded, gave them a snappy salute, and took off with Karasu bouncing on his back.

Temari looked up at her sensei. "What was that all about? He was being all weird. More so than usual that is. He's up to something."

"How could you tell?"

"All the fidgeting. And he kept looking down and to his left, which means he was lying or thinking about lying."

Baki nodded. "Very good. You are learning your lessons from my onē-san very well. So what is he doing?"

"I have no idea. He's always doing weird stuff, but usually he doesn't care if you find out. This time he does, so that makes it suspicious." She saw the smile tugging at the corner of Baki's mouth. "What?"

"I was remembering what it was like to have a talented kunoichi watching over me. When you figure out what he is doing, let me know."

"You don't want to be surprised?" Temari grinned at him.

"Absolutely not." Baki looked around. "Give me one more demonstration before we go back. What does the wind tell you?"

Temari concentrated, synchronizing herself with the air currents until she was one with them, watching their flow and ebb. She considered what she sensed and calculated the possible effects on the weather.

She opened her eyes. "Big storm coming, maybe tomorrow or the day after."

Baki nodded. "Well done. I agree, a storm is coming."


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Kankuro was in the workshop, cleaning and oiling Karasu's joints, when Temari and his father came in. The smirk on Temari's face told him something was wrong.

"What? I didn't do anything!"

"You didn't tell anyone about the attack on you," the Kazekage said.

Crap, Kankuro thought, he'll want to know why I was there next.

"Why were you there at all? It was during school hours."

Kankuro thought fast, trying to come up with an explanation that had some truth to it. There was no way he could tell an outright lie to his father and get away with it.

"I was doing research, the school library is useless. There's no stuff on puppet arts. I'm just trying to get stronger," he said, trying to look earnest.

"That's commendable, if it is true, but you know better than not to report an attack by someone like Orochimaru."

"I'm sorry, but Keiko-san reported it, so you know. So it's okay."

"Kankuro, you must report all confrontations and you must always let someone know where you are. If there had been an emergency, we wouldn't have been able to locate you."

"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful."

Temari snorted. Something was up for sure, Kankuro was being _too_ agreeable. She looked around the workshop. It was messy as always; tools and spare parts were scattered everywhere. The only tidy things were the kunai and needles that the puppet fired. They looked freshly oiled and sharpened. It was something Kankuro did before the start of any mission.

"Where are you going?" she demanded.

"No where. Out."

"Kankuro, what did I just say?" the Kazekage said.

Temari went on before Kankuro could say anything. "What's with the weapons? You're not supposed to load that thing up unless you're training or on a mission."

"His name is Karasu and he's not a thing! You've got your fan and you're not working."

"It's not the same thing," Temari said. "Besides, _I'm_ responsible. I take care of my things."

"So do I!" Kankuro pointed at his puppet. "What does it look like I'm doing here, flower arranging? And like you have anything to do anyways. It's a stupid fan!"

"Better than some oversized doll."

Kankuro went red. "Doll?! Like hell! Karasu's no damn doll. If you…"

"That's enough! This bickering is not appropriate. And you must never underestimate or disrespect another's weapons. Do you both understand?"

"Yes, otō-san," they said in chorus.

"Good. So, I'll ask this time: where are you going Kankuro?"

Kankuro shifted, he had hoped that his father had forgotten about that.

"There's a storm coming, so you should stay in."

"I wasn't going to leave the village. I was going to the market area. Just to hang out."

"With whom?"

Kankuro shrugged.

"Where exactly?"

"Just around."

"Where?!"

"Around. I won't know until I get there. I'm not on duty or anything, so I can do what I want."

"Is that what you think? You are mistaken. You will stay in."

"But…"

"You will stay here." The Kazekage looked around the workshop. "Since you seem to have free time on your hands you can use it to tidy this place up. It looks like a bomb went off in here."

"If I clean, can I go out after?"

"No!"

Kankuro opened his mouth to protest further, but the Kazekage raised one hand, his eyes narrowing dangerously and chin lifting, a sure sign that he was upset. Kankuro shut his mouth and ducked his head, muttering his acceptance of the order.

"Good. So cleaning it is. And you are right about the library. Maybe we can arrange it so you can go there on a regular basis."

He turned and ushered Temari out of the work shop, she made one last face at her brother over her shoulder. Kankuro stuck his tongue out at her and then turned back to Karasu. He looked down at his puppet, chewing his lip. He did not know what to do; going out would mean disobeying a direct order from his father.

"But I said I'd be there," he muttered. "A shinobi never backs down from a challenge. And…she knows stuff. Stuff he doesn't maybe."

Sneaking out would be difficult, his father might come back to check up on him at any time.

"Nah, he'll send nosy face out to check on us. He'll be too busy reading reports and stuff."

He looked around the workshop, with its collection of spare puppet parts, broken weapons, and other, unidentifiable objects. A plan suggested itself; he felt a thrill run down his spine and was not sure if it was because of the upcoming fight or because he was about to disobey his father.

He got up and began to gather things from around the workshop. "We can do this Karasu. Real quick, out and back. Hell, Gaara does it all the time, so we can too."

-0000-

Kankuro paused, pushing up against the wall and peeking around the corner of the building. He was early, but he was still cautious. The Kazekage had been right about the storm, in the twenty minutes it had taken Kankuro to get ready and out of the house, the wind had risen and it was becoming hard to see for all the sand. He slid Karasu off his shoulders for one final weapons check. He ran his hands over the limbs, checking latches and springs to make sure everything was in working order.

"Okay, looking good Karasu," he murmured, putting his hands on the sides of the puppet's head. "Almost time. Too bad no one's around to see us kick ass."

The old woman was invisible in the shadows, her dark clothes made it easy to blend in. Her fingers brushed the monkey puppet on her shoulder and then continued on to adjust her cowl. She was surprised by how eager she was. It had been a long time since she had felt the pre-battle thrill; equal parts anticipation and fear. She remembered the huge stage that the puppeteers had used for challenges and to recreate battles for their own amusement. She wondered if Chiyo still performed there or if it had sat unused since Sasori's departure and the collapse of the puppet guild. Something like this should have an audience, to cheer the good moves, to jeer at the mistakes, and to bear witness. Witnesses were essential, to see a new puppeteer get his mask or to observe failures. Not that she intended to lose; the boy had one puppet and little experience.

But it is one of _his_ puppets, she thought, some of his creations could almost move on their own. And you did not bother to find out which one the boy has.

That had been a tactical error, it meant she would have to improvise a strategy, but like all good puppeteers she was a master of improvisation. She was prepared to be quick and flexible and her mask reflected that (she had earned five in her time). She was sure that the meaning would be lost on the boy, but she had worn it anyways; this was a challenge and she would take it seriously.

She sensed someone nearby, alerted by the brief absence of the wind blowing sand against a wall as they passed by. She patted the monkey again and then lifted him onto a ledge.

"Be ready, Cheechee," she murmured. "The curtain rises."

It was the boy, cautiously entering their small stage. Then she realized that it was not really the boy. He was using a classic opening; she was a little surprised that someone so young was able to perform a substitution. It would be interesting to see what else he knew. She raised her hands and paused, savouring the moment; the silence before the storm. Then, with a quick gesture, she called her puppets from their hiding spots. Kamakiri unfolded himself from a pile of wood, Haiena rose from the dusty ground, and Yamori stepped away from a wall, shifting his colour from dark red to brown. She made them lunge and feint at their opponent, Kamakiri slashed with his long front arms, Haiena nipped at his legs with her teeth and claws, and Yamori lashed out with his tongue. She was not ready to destroy the puppet yet, first she would flush the boy out of his hiding spot. It would be easier to stop him than to tackle the unknown and possibly dangerous puppet. She would make him manipulate his puppet and then track him by his chakra strings. The boy's puppet dodged and whirled away with impressive agility, but eventually Kamakiri was able to slash its head, cracking the shell of sand that formed its disguise.

So, the old woman thought, it's Karasu, the harbinger of death, but not for me, not tonight. I have found you boy and now you are mine.

Kamakiri feinted at Karasu one last time and then launched into the air. "Almost done Cheechee," she murmured. "It was not much of a show after all."

High on his roof top perch, Kankuro cursed and scrambled to his feet. The old lady had figured out where he was much faster than he had planned. He had hoped to take out at least one of the puppets before she found him. A strange looking puppet with a narrow body, long spindly limbs, and big, bulging eyes in a triangular head landed on the roof in front of him. The top pair of arms were tipped with serrated scythe-like blades that slashed at Kankuro even as it landed. He blocked the strike with his kunai and then slashed at the puppet's head. The tall skinny puppet had impressive blades but its hind limbs looked weak. The puppet that looked like a lizard did not appear to have any blades or teeth and its body looked fragile. The strongest of the three seemed to be the one that was dog-like, but Kankuro could not be positive, each one might have some hidden attack, just like Karasu did.

There was a rustling noise behind him and something knocked him over; it was the tail of the lizard-like puppet. Before he could get up, the first puppet pounced on him, wrapping its arms around Kankuro's body. Kankuro twisted to try and get free; the motion made the serrated blades dig into his ribs, cutting through the heavy material of his shirt and the mesh under shirt he was wearing. He scrambled forward, grabbed the puppet's back legs, and pulled as hard as he could. The puppet's upper arms released him and began to flail around as it tried to maintain its balance. Kankuro pulled again and the puppet fell over backwards, he dodged the front arms and grabbed one of the slender back legs in both hands, put one foot on it and pulled. The end of the leg snapped off in his hands, he whirled around and threw it at the second puppet. The puppet dodged it easily, but it gave Kankuro a moment to assess the situation. Karasu was still dodging attacks from the dog puppet, Kankuro had not been able to concentrate hard enough to make him do much more than defend. Kankuro looked around, the lizard had disappeared and the big bug-like puppet was still flailing around, trying to get back on its feet. Kankuro produced some wire from his pocket and looped it around the dangerous front limbs. The puppet snapped at him, its jaws were full of sharp teeth, and tried to bite through the wire. Kankuro brought Karasu up to the roof. He descended on the thrashing puppet, arms extended to grab and crush it. The puppet was quick and agile, but Kankuro had guessed correctly that its body and limbs were relatively light and fragile. Moments after Karasu applied pressure there was a loud crack and the puppet went limp. Somewhere nearby the old lady cried out in dismay as her puppet was crushed.

The sound of Kamakiri's arms and torso splintering vibrated through her own body. The nasty boy had damaged her beautiful puppet. The old woman stepped out of her hiding place so she could see and control Haiena and Yamori better. Cheechee remained crouched on his ledge. She sent Haiena scrambling up the wall to the roof; she was slower than Kamakiri and Yamori, but her solid frame could withstand much more abuse and her jaws and claws would make short work of the boy and his puppet.

Haiena clawed her way onto the roof and advanced on her prey with a low growl. It was the strangest looking dog Kankuro had ever seen; it had an ugly squat face with a powerful looking lower jaw. Its thick back legs were longer than its front legs, so it moved with a strange gait. Kankuro thought that it was actually pretty cool that it could growl and was amazed to see the old woman manipulating so many puppets, but it would not be enough to beat him and Karasu.

"Heh, you're one ugly mutt," he taunted. "Uglier then that stupid monkey even."

He launched Karasu at the puppet. Haiena leapt into the air and caught one of Karasu's legs in her jaws. Kankuro gasped when he heard a cracking sound; he tried to jerk Karasu free, but Haiena clenched her jaws tighter and shook her head, jerking Karasu back and forth. She charged straight at Kankuro, dragging Karasu along. Kankuro scrambled out of the way and tried to think of what to do; the splintering sound was horrible to hear when it came from your own puppet. Kankuro realized that he was not going to be able to tug his puppet free, so he detached Karasu's leg and made his puppet rise into the air; he hated to leave any part of Karasu in the grip of the enemy, but it was either a leg or the entire puppet.

He was concentrating so hard on Haiena and Karasu that he did not see Yamori reappear. The puppet had somehow blended into the gathering darkness and dust from the storm. Its tongue, a long jointed length, hit him in the ribs, almost on the same spot where the first puppet had slashed him. He tumbled to the ground and both puppets were on him in a flash. Jaws clamped onto his shoulder and Haiena shook him hard. Yamori's tongue wrapped around his leg and the two puppets began to drag him to the edge of the roof. Kankuro kicked and thrashed around, trying to get loose. There was no way he was going to allow himself to be dragged to the old puppeteer like that.

Or maybe not, he thought. Maybe I should let her see exactly what she expects.

He let Karasu slump down onto the roof. The timing would have to be perfect, but he knew he could do it. He braced himself for a fall as the puppets jumped off the roof.

Yamori and Haiena dragged the boy over to the old woman. He thrashed and yelled the entire time. She peered down at him, smirking. He glared back at her; he was trying to pull his shoulder out of Haiena's grasp. His free hand was pushed into the ground, trying to claw his way free.

"As I said before, you should not have a puppet. You do not know what you are doing."

The boy growled at her and began to kick at Yamori. The puppet's skin appeared to be some sort of cloth stretched over a light wooden frame, making him light and agile. The cloth shimmered in the dusk; changing colour as sand swirled around it.

"That's enough. We are done."

"Like hell!" Kankuro grimaced, his shoulder was on fire, but it was no worse than some of the stuff that Gaara had done to him. He kept on kicking; he would do some damage to the puppet and distract the old lady at the same time.

"Foolish child. You are defeated. My puppets have you down and you have lost control of that abomination." She gestured at the roof where Karasu lay in a crumpled heap.

Kankuro was not sure what abomination meant, but he was sure that it was nothing nice.

"HIS NAME IS KARASU!" he bellowed and kicked Yamori as hard as he could. The puppet's wooden ribs collapsed with a satisfying crunch.

"Stop it!" The old woman made Haiena shake his captive until she heard his teeth rattle. "You are defeated."

"Am not!"

The old woman watched dumbfounded, as the boy began to kick at Haiena, ignoring the painful grip of the puppet's teeth and ignoring the fact that he had lost.

"You are either incredibly stupid or too inexperienced to know better, but you are done."

"Not yet!" The boy lifted his head; his grimace had turned into a sneer. "I'm just getting started." He flexed his free hand and began his attack. Controlling Karasu's limbs and body separately was the technique had not been able to practice against Gaara, he just hoped that the little practice he had managed would be enough.

The old woman glanced up at the roof, but Karasu had not moved. She snorted derisively; the boy could no longer control his puppet. She looked down again; the sneer had turned into a fierce grin. Her eyes went wide and she whipped her head around, looking for his attack. She was too late; two wooden hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her feet out from under her. She hit the ground hard and her concentration lapsed for a moment, allowing Kankuro to wrench free from Haiena. He rolled away and to his feet, rolling his shoulder to get blood and chakra flowing. Kankuro flexed his arm and shoulder one last time and then reconnected with Karasu's main body. The big puppet launched off the roof, straight at Haiena. The old lady was still sitting on the ground, unable to free her ankles, but she was still controlling her puppet. Haiena reared up and met Karasu's charge head on. The two puppets met with a crash of lacquered wood and an explosion of sand. Karasu's arms extended and wrapped around Haiena crushing her tight to his body. Haiena's powerful back legs kicked at Karasu, scratching along his torso. Kankuro made Karasu's arms tighten more until Haiena's torso started to creak. He had the old woman down, but the fight would not be over until her last puppet was disabled. He made the puppet limbs release her ankles and move to her hands, grappling for her wrists. She struggled to get free and maintain control over Haiena, Kankuro struggled to pin her and to keep her puppet from mauling Karasu. It was getting hard to concentrate, his ribs and shoulder hurt, he could feel blood and sweat trickling down his side, and the wind was whipping sand into his eyes.

This is no worse than some of the crap Gaara has done to you, he thought, so just ignore it and finish the fight.

Haiena was still struggling, but getting weaker. Kankuro was not sure if it was because of the damage Karasu was doing or because the old woman was losing her control over the puppet.

"C'mon Karasu, crack that stupid mutt like a nut," he urged his puppet on.

Karasu's arms had wound completely around Haiena's body. Kankuro made the puppet's hands work their way between Haiena's front legs and then behind her thick neck. There was a loud crack and the puppet's head flopped to one side.

"No!" the old woman exclaimed. "Haiena! Let her go!"

The old woman struggled; she could not believe how things had turned on her. This boy and his single ugly puppet had done so much damage to her beautiful puppets. She had underestimated him and was paying a heavy price for it. He had been outnumbered, but his determination and amazing chakra control had allowed him to endure. And now he was moments away from defeating her. Her wrists had been pinned to the ground and they were being squeezed so hard it was getting hard to control Haiena.

"Let her go!"

"Cut her strings!"

The old woman glared at him, her features distorted by her mask. Then she looked alarmed, something else had cracked inside the puppet's body. She made one final attempt at freeing the puppet and then relaxed.

"Alright, alright, let her go."

Kankuro made Karasu release his grip a little, and when she did not try anything, he let the puppet slip from Karasu's grasp. Kankuro took a deep breath. He had won.

"Let me go."

Kankuro did so, watching her warily as she sat up.

"I won, so now you have to tell me…"

"No, the only thing I have to do is give you what you have earned. You have won your mask."

"I want to know, did you make those?" He pointed at her puppets. "Or did Sasori make them too?"

"He did not!" she exclaimed.

"Then who did? Tell me!"

The old woman shook her head in amazement; she could not believe that someone so talented could be so ignorant. But then a possible explanation occurred to her.

"This is the Kazekage's doing. He's raising his own little Sasori alongside that evil creature. Foolish, arrogant man. And you have no idea of how badly you are being used. Foolish boy."

"He is not! Take that back!" Kankuro yelled, but a small part of him was wondering if there was maybe something to what she was saying. "I'll prove it. We can ask…" he trailed off. He could not take her to his father, that would get him in a lot of trouble. But she had to be wrong and there had to be someone who would tell her the truth.

Baki, he thought. No, he'll tell otō-san. Maybe Keiko.

The old woman went tense, thinking that the boy meant to bring his father into it. That would be disastrous. She had managed to avoid detection for many years, if the Kazekage saw her; Chiyo would know she was still alive soon after. And once that happened she would be hunted down for sure. She had to get away. Her eyes darted to the ledge where she had left Cheechee. The boy had forgotten about him.

She sneered at him. "You're being used, just like a puppet. And you do you know what happens to a puppet when it no longer has any use?"

"That's not true! Take it back!" Kankuro yelled. It had to be a lie; she was trying to make him angry. But the little voice in the back of his head suggested that there might just be something to it.

"Humph. Little, mindless puppet. That's all you are to him."

"I am not, damn it!" Kankuro clenched his fists and stepped towards her. "That's not true, he's teaching me because he…"

Kankuro did not hear the monkey puppet until it was too late. He started to turn when something slammed into the side of his head and then everything went dark.

Cheechee jumped onto the old woman's shoulder.

"I can always depend on you Cheechee," she murmured. "But what do we do now? We could just kill him and leave, no one would ever know." She looked over at Karasu. "I should destroy that _thing_ at least."

She patted his head absently as she meditated over her options. Killing him would be easy, but she realized that it might bring her more trouble in the long run. She would have the boy's father on her trail. The Fourth Kazekage had been known for his skills as a tracker; it was said that he would go to the ends of the earth to catch his prey. If she left the boy alive, however, she might still be hunted because of what she was.

"I need to send a message to him, to get him to leave us in peace," she said. "I think I know how, Cheechee, but it will be dangerous. We must be very careful. We'll leave him a little scene…a tableau. That should make my point. Then I'll talk to him." She knelt beside Kankuro and rolled him onto his back. She took one of his hands in hers and peered at it, considering the lines in his palm. "So much potential. I wonder if he'll live long enough to grow into it." She gazed at the young puppeteer a little longer, trying to sort through the possibilities, the probabilities. "It's possible, Cheechee," she murmured. "He might just make it."

A/N: Kamakiri=Mantis, Yamori= Gecko, Haiena= Hyena, Karasu=Crow, but you knew the last one already, eh?


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Baki held his lamp higher, but the light would not penetrate much farther than the circle of calm that the Kazekage had conjured around them so they could search for Kankuro without having to battle the scouring sand.

The Kazekage paused and then, "This way."

Baki could not see much of anything, but he did not question the Kazekage's assertion. Judging from the look on the man's face, it was probably best if he did not say anything. The Kazekage led them into an abandoned building, giving them relief from the storm. He pointed at dim shapes ahead of them.

"There." He raised his voice. "Kankuro!"

They hurried over, stopped, and stared at what had emerged from the dark. Baki's eye went wide at the sight.

Karasu was sitting on the floor, hands folded in front of him in an attitude of prayer. A shrouded form lay before the puppet, the covering over his face appeared to be stained with something crimson. The setting was completed by a small container of incense and dried flowers.

The Kazekage knelt beside Kankuro. He pulled the cloth off his face, yanked the shroud off his body, and checked his pulse.

"He's alive." He put his hands on Kankuro's face, trailing fingers over the bloody welt on his temple.

"What is this?" Baki asked. The sight of the puppet at prayer was somehow unnerving. He could not figure out what it meant.

The Kazekage shook his head, Baki was not sure he had even heard the question.

"Kankuro!"

Kankuro stirred and tried to sit up. "Karasu! Where's… I…she…"

The Kazekage pushed him back down. "Boy! What have you done?!"

"I had to…"

"Had to?! Had to disobey me?! I told you…"

Kankuro wiggled under the Kazekage's heavy hand. "She challenged me."

"So that meant you could lie to me?" The Kazekage shook his son. "Right after I told you to stay in, told you not to go off without telling anyone. And look what happened."

"We won, that's what happened! We beat her!"

"I told you to stay in!"

"You don't control me! I'm not your puppet!" Kankuro said before he could stop himself.

The Kazekage's eyes narrowed. He tightened his grip until Kankuro protested. His voice was low and dangerous. "Oh, yes I do, as your parent and as your Kazekage. While you remain in this village, you follow my rules. You know what happens to a shinobi who disobeys an order."

Kankuro's eyes went wide, but he shook his head. "It was my choice. My challenge!"

"Look what your choice has gotten you." The Kazekage pressed his hand to Kankuro's head, showed Kankuro his bloody fingers, and then gestured at Karasu. "You are injured and your weapon was left in the hands of your opponent."

"No! We won!" Kankuro took a deep breath, all the shaking and yelling was making him feel dizzy.

"Boy!" The Kazekage raised his hand. Kankuro cringed, but the defiant look remained on his face.

"Kazekage-sama, perhaps we should get him to a medic," Baki said. He gestured to Kankuro's side. Blood had seeped through his shirt to stain the ground.

The anger fell from the Kazekage's face, leaving only the concern. He rolled Kankuro onto his side. Kankuro could not smother his cry of pain as his father's fingers probed the injury.

"I don't think it was poisoned, but we should get it checked," someone said. Kankuro was not sure who it was, things were getting hazy. Someone, he was pretty sure it was his father, picked him up.

"Karasu. Don't forget him," he muttered.

The Kazekage hoisted Kankuro more securely into his arms. "Baki, please bring the puppet."

"Of course, Kazekage-sama."

Baki looked down at Karasu. Three eyes stared back. Baki was sure the puppet was smirking at him. He shook his head, picked the puppet up, and followed the Kazekage into the night.

-0000-

The Kazekage looked down at his sleeping son. One of Kankuro's hands was curled around the edge of the blanket. The Kazekage slipped one finger under his son's fingers and they curled further, grasping tight. The gesture brought back memories; the Kazekage had done this often when Kankuro was a baby and was always amazed by strength of the tiny fingers. The Kazekage remembered a two year old Kankuro taking a cup from a table, his hands not nearly big enough to hold it, but refusing to let go, and protesting at the top of his lungs when anyone tried to take it from him. The Kazekage stroked the back of his hand with his thumb and smiled. Kankuro might have his father's face and his stubborn nature, but he had his mother's hands, strong and clever.

He sighed, feeling the familiar mixture of pride and exasperation. His son had defeated an accomplished puppeteer using just one puppet. And he had disobeyed an order, tried to deceive his father, and snuck out of the house to do it. The substitutes Kankuro had built out of scraps in the workshop had fooled Temari when she had gone out to check on him, and even the Kazekage had had to look twice before he had realized what they were.

"How can you presume to lead a village of shinobi, if you can't get a child to obey you?" he muttered. "How am I supposed to…?"

The timing of this was bad, he needed all his attention focused elsewhere. Kankuro had been trained for a specific role in the management of the demon and nothing could be allowed to distract him from that, not even the full knowledge of his art. It was hard for the Kazekage to use his children like this, unbelievably hard in Kankuro's case. The boy deserved better training than he was getting for his amazing talent. Instead he was being used as a pawn in a game he did not yet understand, but the independence and power of the shinobi of the Sand village had to come first.

"Patience, boy," he muttered. "Soon I'll explain it all." He paused and then continued in a louder voice. "And you have two minutes to explain just what the _fuck_ you were trying to accomplish."

The old woman emerged from the shadows. "Kazekage-sama," she greeted him. "I see where the boy learned his manners." She placed a folded square of cloth on the bed. "You left this behind. It is his, he earned it."

"And what about that little message you left for me: 'I could have killed him, so now you owe me'. Is that what all that meant?"

"Very good, Kazekage-sama. I trust you will heed the warning." She looked down at Kankuro. "You cannot control that creature through either of your sons, or even your daughter. You can no more control the bijuu than you can the sands or the tides."

"You are wrong. It is working. It _will_ continue to work and we _will_ remain independent and strong because of it."

"Hmph, I can see where the boy gets his stubborn streak. It _will_ end badly. I can see that easily."

The Kazekage raised an eyebrow. "So, is it true what they say about you? You have divination skills. I am not sure I believe in that sort of thing. It certainly did not help you fight Kankuro, didn't it?"

The old woman went stiff in indignation. "Foolish arrogant man! You know that it does not work that way." She pointed at him. "Keep going the way you are and there will be no future for you at all."

The Kazekage snorted. "It takes no power to see that. I am prepared to give my life. My life, my family's life, whatever it takes. The only important thing is to make sure the village has a future. That is all that matters." The Kazekage looked down at his son.

She followed his gaze. "You said you don't believe, but I'll tell you anyway. It is possible that he will become the greatest of us, despite his lack of training, despite the fact you are not giving him true puppets. I see jinchuuriki. He will hate one, call one brother, call one friend, and he will love one. I am leaving. I gave you your son's life, so now leave me to mine." She pointed to the bed. "Be sure he learns how to put that on."

"If he wants to, I will."

"He has earned it, so he must…"

The Kazekage laughed, a grin spreading across his face. "He must? Obaa-sama, did you not learn anything about Kankuro while you fought him? You don't _make_ him do anything he does not want to do."

The old woman barked out a short laugh. "Very true. The nut does not fall far from the tree, as they say. Good-bye, Kazekage-sama, we will not meet again."

She made several hand signs and was gone.

Kankuro stirred, awakened by the sound of his father's laughter. He wiggled under the heavy blankets, trying to get them loose so he could move. He brushed his fingers across the bandages on his ribs and head, trying to remember. He looked into his father's stern face and it all came back.

"I had to go. I didn't mean to…" he said in a rush.

The Kazekage snorted. "Of course you meant to. The question is: what do we do now?"

Kankuro's eyes went wide and he felt a surge of fear. He knew what happened to shinobi who disobeyed orders.

"She challenged me, as a _puppeteer_. The Kazekage doesn't get any say about it."

"Who told you that?"

"She told me that you had no authority over puppeteers."

"Did she? And you believed her?"

"Not at first, but then I read something similar in a book."

"You should have asked."

"You would've said no."

The Kazekage took a deep breath.

"We won, so it's okay," Kankuro said quickly before the Kazekage could yell at him. "We were so fast and I used my head, just like you said. You would have been proud."

The Kazekage expelled the breath in a heavy sigh. He brushed his fingers along Kankuro's temple and then through his thick hair. "I am proud of you Kankuro. Always. Whatever happens, never forget that" His voice was soft. He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. "Obviously you weren't that fast. I suspect that she caught you when you weren't paying attention."

"She did it after the fight, after she gave up." He scowled. "I think it was that stupid monkey."

The Kazekage's fingers brushed through Kankuro's hair a few moments more and then he tapped Kankuro's forehead. "Perhaps you should consider actually wearing what you were given when you became a shinobi. It's called a forehead protector for a reason."

"Nobody wears them properly. Temari wears hers around her throat."

"Thus protecting a vulnerable spot. Baki wears his properly."

"And look what happened to him."

"Kankuro!" the Kazekage shook his head. "Humour me and at least consider it."

"Yes, otō-san." Kankuro peered up at him, trying to look contrite. "So you're not going to kick me out?"

"No."

Kankuro heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"However, you will be punished for this."

Kankuro cringed. "I know. It's not…Karasu."

"No, you get to keep the puppet. It seems that you two are meant for each other."

"So…"

"It is something terrible and appropriate. I am not going to tell you just yet."

"But…that's not…" Kankuro grumbled but did not say anything else. He shifted and his eyes fell on the folded square of cloth lying on the bed. "What's that?"

His father reached over and picked it up, letting it unfold. Kankuro squinted at the pattern of reddish lines.

"She had that on her face."

"Yes. It's called an oshiguma. After an important performance, kabuki actors remove their masks onto a cloth like this. When a puppeteer reached a certain level of skill he would get a new mask, a new design. This is how they were passed on. This is now yours to wear."

"Wear? You mean like a scarf?"

"No, you paint the design on your face."

"What?! You mean like make up? Guys don't wear that stuff!"

"Puppeteers do. That was the whole point of the challenge Kankuro, to earn this mask."

Kankuro considered the design. "It is sort of fierce looking. Could I get it tattooed on instead?"

"No! It is not meant to be permanent. It changes as you mature in your skills and as your puppets change."

"You mean I'm going to get another puppet? When?"

"When you are ready?"

"That's not an answer."

"No time soon that's for certain. Do you really think you should be rewarded for what you did tonight?"

"No," Kankuro said. "I guess not." He paused. "I…I didn't mean to make you worry, otō-san. I'm…sorry."

"I don't suppose you did, but you have to learn to be more careful, Kankuro. I might not always be able to come and find you. The day is coming when…" He stopped himself. "I know an actor who can teach you about face paint. We'll go tomorrow morning. And then we'll discuss punishment."

"Yes otō-san."

"Very good." The Kazekage's fingers brushed through Kankuro's hair again and across his forehead, applying a gentle pulse of chakra. "Go to sleep, Kankuro."


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

"The next day I started to learn about face paint." He grinned. "And I had to clean the training hall every day for two months." The grin faded. "A few months later we started to prepare for the invasion, and he…"

Miri nodded, she already knew the story of the failed invasion and how the Kazekage had cut himself off from his son in the weeks leading up to it.

"And then I was on my own with Kuroari and Shanshouo. At least until Ebizo-sensei finally decided to take me on as a student."

"Did you ever see her again?"

"No. No one has seen her since. I looked once, but…" he shrugged again.

"What an interesting woman. She could see…"

"That's crap. She was just saying stuff to keep him from killing her. No one can predict the future. I can't believe that you believe in that shit." He looked over at her. "Actually, I can't believe you're still awake. The last time I did this, my audience fell asleep."

"How rude of them. I would not say I believed, but I have some _ideas_ on the subject. In theory…"

"Oh, no. Don't start theorizing, it's way too late for that. She was just saying what he wanted to hear about Gaara."

"Not only Gaara. What about Naruto? What about…?"

"No. You could make just about anything out of what she said. That's the way that shit works." He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm getting a drink of water."

He started to stand, but her hand clamped onto his upper arm, pulling him back down. She sat up. "One moment, please."

"No, Miri. She didn't predict anything. I refuse to believe that everything that has happened to me was predictable, planned. Like I was some damn puppet on a string. No way!"

"You? Predictable? Never!"

He scowled at her facetious tone.

"Well, you are not, but that is not what I was going to ask."

"Then what?"

"Who was this other person who fell asleep? What story did you tell?"

Kankuro stared at her blankly a moment and then laughed. In a single fluid motion, he turned and pushed her back down, pinning her in place with his body. Miri wiggled under him, making a half-hearted protest, but not trying too hard to get free (she could toss him through the wall if she wanted).

"Like hell I'm going to tell you that."

"Tell me the story then. It could not have been that boring."

"Hell, no! Story time is over."

"Will you tell me another time?"

"Why should I? What's in it for me?"

"How about…'a thousand kisses, then another hundred, then another thousand, then yet another thousand more. Then, when we have made many thousands, we will mix them up so no one can be jealous when they find out how many kisses we have shared'."

He snorted. "What's with that sappy shit? Did you make that up?"

"It is Catullus. Hmm, you are right, it does lose a little in the translation."

"More than a little." He leaned down to kiss her; the jinchuuriki that he loved. "A thousand kisses, huh? Well, that's a start."

END


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